


Hair

by katsukiyaoi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Fanboying, Hair Kink, M/M, Obsession, Pining, but not yet, probably smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsukiyaoi/pseuds/katsukiyaoi
Summary: At four A.M. the following morning, Yuuri crawls out of bed and sneaks into the onsen’s computer room, which guests can rent by the hour for internet access. He first searches a general query for long haired men. Upon finding none pleasing to his eye, he keys in “Viktor Nikiforov” to ogle at the Russian skater.Viktor’s beauty is incredible, spellbinding, and simultaneously somewhat befuddling.Yuuri searches “beautiful women” and frowns as the results disappoint him.Perhaps it was Viktor’s uniqueness that made him so captivating. His hair, even during physically exerting tasks such as figure skating, radiates a perfect shine that shampoo commercials only dream to emulate. It is objectively and femininely gorgeous. His jawline, however, is masculine.AKA a history of yuuri pining over viktor and his hair





	Hair

“Russia’s Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuko swoons as a lithe, silver-haired figure glides and leaps across the rink’s television screen. “He won the gold at Junior World’s with the highest score in _history_! He’s amazing.” 

Yuuri’s eyes widen behind his glasses frames as he watches Viktor’s ponytail whip through the air, silver strands moving in perfect tandem.

*****

At four A.M. the following morning, Yuuri crawls out of bed and sneaks into the onsen’s computer room, which guests can rent by the hour for internet access. He first searches a general query for long haired men. Upon finding none pleasing to his eye, he keys in “Viktor Nikiforov” to ogle at the Russian skater. 

Viktor’s beauty is incredible, spellbinding, and simultaneously somewhat befuddling. 

Yuuri searches “beautiful women” and frowns as the results disappoint him. 

Perhaps it was Viktor’s uniqueness that made him so captivating. His hair, even during physically exerting tasks such as figure skating, radiates a perfect shine that shampoo commercials only dream to emulate. It is objectively and femininely gorgeous. His jawline, however, is masculine. 

Yuuri clears the browser history, powers off the machine, and slinks back to his room. 

Nestled under his covers, he runs his hand through his own hair and wonders what Viktor’s feels like. 

*****

Two weeks before Yuuri’s 15th birthday, his parents surprise him with tickets to the NHK Trophy. Yuuri thanks them profusely, takes pictures of both sides of the tickets, then corners Mari nee-san after dinner and forces her to play photographer as he holds the tickets to his chest. 

It’s all he can think about, almost all he talks about. Whenever a conversation lulls and his anxiety demands that he fill the space, his brain short-circuits and defaults to, “Did I tell you? My parents got me tickets to the NHK Trophy!” which is usually met with, “Yes, Yuuri-kun, you’ve told me a few times already.”

On November 27th, Mari nee-san acts as chaperone to Yuuri, Yuuko, and Takeshi. Yuuri is the embodiment of poorly contained excitement, eyes sparkling, shyness the only factor that keeps his screams at a tolerable volume for surrounding spectators. Their seats are in the middle-front. When Viktor skates onto the ice to warm up, Yuuri clutches Mari nee-san, then Yuuko, whisper-screaming, eyes tearing up. 

“Look, _look_ , it’s Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri gasps, beside himself. 

“Eh?” Mari nee-san looks up from her phone. 

“Right there, right there, my god, he’s doing a triple loop.” Yuuri’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and, overcome as he is, he fails to notice Takeshi’s snicker two seats down. Yuuri lets go of his sister’s arm to clasp Yuuko’s instead. “Yuuko, we are breathing the same air as Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri whispers reverently.

“I know,” she whispers back, one-handedly attempting to take pictures with a digital camera as Yuuri renders her other arm useless. 

Yuuri assesses each of the skaters critically as they perform their routines, occasionally making comments on underrotated jumps and out-of-time step sequences. When Viktor takes the ice, however, Yuuri’s mind goes blank. The only thought he can hear is _remember this._

Viktor’s hair is unbidden by ties for his performance. It hangs around his waist, a perfect blanket of satin, a suspended curtain of shimmering water. 

Music echoes around the rink urgently as Viktor skates in a beautiful frenzy, hair whipping around him like a cape. 

_Remember this,_ Yuuri’s brain screams frantically at him, but the sheer wonder of being here and watching Viktor overwhelms him. With every jump, he manually reminds himself to breathe. 

Viktor finishes with a flourish. His hair is rejecting its custom part and lays askew across his face. A camera zooms in to capture his elated expression in what will later become a popular re-shared reaction image: one of the first memes in figure skating. 

Yuuri screams and cheers. He shoves his backpack off his lap to stand up and clap and make whatever noise he can. When words finally return to him, he sits down and proclaims, “My life is complete. I can now die happy.”

“Yuu- _ri_ ,” Mari exclaims, laughing. 

“Wouldn’t you rather meet him first?” Yuuko teases.

Yuuri ducks his head. “I’d probably just embarrass myself if I were to actually meet him.”

******

When the group returns to the foyer, Viktor is there, answering a reporter’s questions as he ties up his perfect silver hair. 

“Wanna talk to him when he’s done?” Yuuko prods, eyes glinting.

“Maybe,” Yuuri mumbles, eyes trained on his idol. His hands reach up to smooth his own hair. Then he turns to Takeshi. “Is my hair okay?” 

Takeshi guffaws. “Why are you asking me?”

“You’ll probably be honest to me,” Yuuri replies, serious. Takeshi hums and turns to examine the other’s hair. 

“A tuft in the back is sticking up, but it probably can’t be helped. To the left. Left a little more. Yes, there.”

“Viktor’s apparently pretty nice behind the scenes. He probably won’t care,” Yuuko soothes. 

Yuuri whimpers in response. “But he’s also perfect and probably never has bad hair days.”

Viktor shakes hands with the reporter he was talking to and catches Yuuri’s panicked eyes.

“A commemorative photo?”

“We would love to, thank you,” Mari declares. Her fingers close around Yuuri’s wrist and she drags him to Viktor. Yuuko and Takeshi follow, excited but somehow still functioning like normal human beings. Mari lets go when they reach Viktor.

“H-hello,” Yuuri whispers, half-bowing his head. Remembering it probably isn’t polite in other cultures, his head jerks up to meet Viktor’s impossibly blue eyes. He shifts to stand next to Viktor as Mari fiddles with a camera, turning it on.

“Hello, I’m Viktor,” Perfection Itself says pleasantly. 

“I knew,” Yuuri replies immediately. Shit. His mind races, trying to string together English words. “My name am Yuuri.” 

“That’s a nice name,” Viktor replies kindly, unfazed. Yuuri gulps and nods stupidly, trying his best not to stare.

“Okay, smile!” Mari announces. Viktor slides his arm around Yuuri. Yuuri gasps and his soul exits his mouth, flying straight through the roof to ascend to the heavens. He tentatively reciprocates the movement and looks behind Viktor to see the visual evidence that yes, indeed, he is touching Viktor Fucking Nikiforov, and Viktor is touching him back. One long, silver hair has detached itself from Viktor’s head and sticks to his warmup jacket. 

In that moment, Yuuri knows what he _has_ to do. 

The next few seconds happen in slow motion. 

Yuuri turns back towards Mari. His face arranges itself into a smile. Mari barks a few orders at him in Japanese – “Stand up straight, Yuuri, tuck in your chin, stop looking so scared” – until finally she nods, satisfied, and lowers the camera. 

“My turn!” Yuuko exclaims. Yuuri’s eyes dart back to Viktor’s back. He feels like his fingers are dripping sweat as they close around the single hair. He pulls away from Viktor and stuffs his hand in his pocket as nonchalantly as possible. 

Meaning, of course, that he misses his pocket twice, but Viktor doesn’t notice because Yuuri is also skillfully slinking away to stand half-hidden behind Mari. 

Meaning, of course, that he is speed-walking in an unnatural and unflattering way. 

After only half a second of watching Yuuko introduce herself to Viktor much more eloquently than he had, Yuuri abandons the stand-behind-Mari plan and books it to the restroom instead, where he hides until Takeshi finds him, a smile curled around his lips. 

******

Later, in the safety of his own room, Yuuri lays the single hair against the backdrop of a white sheet of printer paper and takes a picture, just in case he loses it. He nestles the strand between two blank sheets in his diary and makes a note in his daily entry that today, he watched Viktor take silver and _took a picture with him_ and, best of all, _got a strand of his hair._

At night, he lays awake, agonizing over the best method of preservation. On Monday, he brings The Hair with him to school and asks a main office secretary if he can borrow the laminator. He positions The Hair into a simple curl and laminates it against nice, thick, manila paper. 

Yuuri finds an empty picture frame in a storage room at home and cuts the laminated paper to fit. After framing his most prized possession, he spends a few minutes pondering where exactly to place it in his room. He’s tempted to put it on his nightstand or his desk, but eventually nestles it under a few layers of socks in his sock drawer. 

He might be crazy, a little obsessed. But then again, he rationalizes, so are countless others. Yuuri’s well acquainted with a few now: raving fangirls that frequent the Viktor fan forum that he moderates. 

_Right!_ The fansite. 

Yuuri extracts the framed strand of hair and carefully takes a picture, making sure not to include his own hovering shadow. In contrast to his typical posts of gushing rhapsody for the Russian skater, he makes this one minimalistic. 

**viktors_hair** posted: [image] me_irl 

[attached image: hair.jpg]

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/330053303054630914/330841473903755265/tumblr_inline_osd4vgH4Fk1sjkjie_540.png
> 
> for some reason i cannot find the original link of the tumblr post that contains this beautiful image, even after reverse image searching for it. if anyone has the original link please tell me and i will update this!


End file.
